


Train Ride

by Ceminar



Category: Original Work
Genre: But not based off the Play, Cats, POV First Person, Wholesome, liminal spaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29220789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceminar/pseuds/Ceminar
Summary: Street cats are fantastical feline companions of the temporary sort. At least, that's what you've heard. But you've never encountered one of your own. It's just an urban legend that you find yourself clinging to more and more as the days grow shorter and your inspiration for... Well, anything wanes. How you long to find one yourself.





	Train Ride

**Author's Note:**

> It's been so long since I've posted, I genuinely don't know what to do as far as tags are concerned. Not like I really know how to tag stuff back then anyway.

You've heard the stories whispered amongst strangers, stories not meant for you about some of the oddities of city life. Stories lingering in empty train cars and drifting over crowded streets. Stories of people and their Cats. But these Cats do not sound like pets, like a feline companion that awaits one at home. But still, it is Their Cat. One they met that waited just for them.

Respect them, the stories say. Bring an offering. Give them time and space to decide if they are Yours or not. Once they are close enough, once they allow you to touch them, once they decide to be Your Cat, the adventure begins. And the adventure varies with each breed. From the overheard whispers, you can determine a pattern of sorts, but you don't believe it. Still, that doesn't stop you from bringing treats with you everywhere you go. A bag of treats, a can of cat food or two, even a water bottle. You say it's because you love animals and, even if you can't own one yourself, you want to help the strays you see along the way.

But deep down, you want a Cat of your own. You want an adventure to bring even an ounce of difference to your life, to break up the boring daily grind.

Wake up. Take the train. Work. Lunch. Work. Train again. Home.

Your hobbies have lately left you unfulfilled. Work is just going through the same motions, day after day. The commute used to hold your interest at least a little, new faces every day, the landscape passing by at light speed, the throngs of people milling about, passing street vendors and performers. But it's winter in the city now. All those faces are bundled up with scarves, thick coats buttoned to their noses. Like the scenery now, everything is just a gray blur. The performers are fewer and further between. The vendors are still there, but no one wants to wait with the cold turning any bit of skin you dare expose red.

An adventure would be most welcome, indeed. At least, that's what you think as you head home after yet another uneventful, unfulfilling day, stopping by your usual bagoda to grab a mug of hot chocolate to keep you warm. Same as ever, you muse, eyes drifting over after catching a bit of movement, a chill that has nothing to do with the season suddenly running down your spine.

A pair of eyes, crystal blue and deep as the oceans are staring at you, watching you, and all you can make out in the shadows under a porch. They do not waver once you make eye contact and all that runs through your mind are the Stories. Could this be one of them? No. It couldn't. Your life isn't that interesting after all. There isn't any way that that creature, whatever it is, is there for you.

But you hope, pulling your bag from your back. You hope, crouching on the freezing concrete, fishing in your bag for the treats. You hope, pouring a few into your hand, holding it out and quietly calling, ‘Here, kitty, kitty.’ And still you hope, holding your breath, until finally the eyes watching you blink. It was a long blink, and you fear the creature may have disappeared, or worse, been a figment of your imagination, but something moves in those shadows and still you do not breathe. Not once a creature with fur the color of Autumn leaves steps forward, not even after it mews to you before inching closer.

It is most certainly a Cat. The way it carries itself, how pristine it looks despite not having a collar, an owner, a home. It's one from the stories you've heard through the city, one of the more common ones, at that.

It stops in front of you, gazing expectantly with those brilliant blue eyes and you finally take a breath. It's still watching, still judging you. You gently place the treats on the ground and it walks past them, brushing against your legs instead and purring all the while.

It's your time now.

Carefully, you reach down and run your fingers through its fur and it's warm and soft and you feel the vibrations of its body against your palm as it continues to wrap itself around your leg until, without warning, it darts off like a little fireball, leaving you confused for a moment until it stops and looks expectantly back at you. You could swear it was smirking, tail flicking back and forth as you grab your bag and stumble to your feet.

Follow me, Your Cat seems to say, Adventure awaits you.

And you do. Your Cat leads you down to the trains, but people are scarce tonight. No one questions you or it as it darts under the turnstile, pausing only to twitch its tail annoyedly as you start to fumble for your pass. But it drops for you, allowing you entrance and Your Cat is off again, with you on it's heels as it hops onto an unfamiliar train.

The cars are warm and inviting, plush seats of green and violet, golden rails above and floors that change colors with every step you take. There were people in the one you and Your Cat settled in. An older man looks at you over his tablet, bushy eyebrows and fuzzy face crinkle in a hidden smile, the child beside him resting her head on his lap, dozing after what must have been a long day of play by the messy hair and grass stains covering her knees and elbows. Two women across from you both nod their greeting, before one returns her head to the others shoulder as their fingers entwine, bright orange nails of one alternating with the chipped burgundy of the others. There are more, but they don't seem to notice you, heads buried in books or leaned back as headphones lead from their ears to some hidden device. Your Cat curls up on your lap and makes themselves at home.

As do you, for the most part. You are overwhelmed, but not anxious. Nervous, but not uncomfortable. As the bell chimes, a voice comes over the loudspeaker, you presume to announce the closing of the doors. But you do not understand the words. That should set you on edge, but you feel more at ease than before, hands settling into the warm fur of the creature on your lap once more as it starts purring again.

The train doesn't lurch, or give any sign that it's in motion, and you wouldn't have even noticed that you weren't still at the station if your gaze hadn't wandered out the windows beside the two women. You were moving, but you had no clue where to or through. What lay beyond the glass was not your dreary gray home, but a beautiful place with iridescent leaves on honey colored trees, buildings that look more at home in a science fiction novel than speeding by before your eyes. Like the floors of the car you rode in, the streets outside seemed to change colors with the steps of the masses as well, but instead of a rainbow, it was of different shades of blue, from the lightest, most clear sky blue to almost but not quite the same as the eyes of Your Cat. Even still, the people milling about in dark colored coats reminded you of home.

Lost you were in your thoughts, you didn't notice the noises around you until Your Cat stirred in your lap, drawing your attention to a trolley coming from the previous car to yours. The sounds coming from the uniformed person pushing it are still unintelligible to your ears, but most of the passengers perk up, responding to what you assume is a question that only you do not understand. And they are met with smiles and mugs of steaming beverages poured from one of the canisters, with neatly wrapped parcels of what you can only assume is a snack of some sort as warmth and happiness surrounds you.

Once the trolley and it's tender get closer, their eyes drift down to Your Cat and they speak with it in a pleasant tone, fixing you a mug of drink and readying another snack. Your Cat understands their words. Of course it does. They brought you here, why would they not know the language they speak? But it does not seem to take well to them, the hairs on the back of its neck, and yours as well, raising as it hisses and spits at them, clawing at their hand and making them drop their offerings to the ground.

The car goes silent, even the music playing through headphones stop as all eyes turn to the three of you. The trolley tender gives a tight smile and speaks to the cat once more as the beverage pools on the ground, the light up flooring now a dark red. They nod, picking up the now ruined snack, the fall into the liquid exposing a soggy sandwich as the drink itself seems to be absorbed into the flooring with no trace of stain or residue. You think they apologize, but their tone seems hollow, insincere regardless of what they are actually saying. Still with that tight smile, they move on to the next car, and everyone and everything returns to normal. Light laughter further down, the sleepy child munching happily on their food, the couple still leaning on each other as they sip their drinks. But there's an odd whisper that you hear that seems not ominous, but more disappointed.

Time passes. Your Cat paws at your hand now and then when you dare to stop petting it. It's especially fond of having it's ears scratched, so you pay special attention there. The world outside the car falls away to the honey trees with its magical looking leaves and an ocean of vibrant fuchsia grasses. Now and then you see homes, smaller than the buildings of the city, but just as interestingly designed. People have come and gone from your car, the old man and the child waving as they step off at a rural station and vanish into the crowd.

And then, it would seem, it's your turn. Your Cat hops off your lap, stretching slightly before padding off towards the doors as the voice from before chimes over the speakers. You follow, but notice that no one else does. Every other stop, at least two or more people left, and more waited beyond the doors, but not this time. It was you and Your Cat, staring into a station with words you could not recognize made of characters you had never seen, casting a cool bluish-green glow on the surrounding area as the train pulled to a stop. No one was there to greet you, which you expected, but no one was there waiting to get on the train either, which you did not. But once the doors opened, you and Your Cat stepped through, doors closing immediately after and the train pulled away. No voice. No chime.

Nonplussed, Your Cat leads you down a set of stairs, nearly tripping you once not out of malice, but out of the selfish desire to rub itself against you right then and there. You aren't angry, and they do not care. The stairs put you on a more brightly lit platform awash with lights in a more gold hue. There, another train awaits. This time, there are no other passengers. The plush seats are replaced by honey colored wooden benches that would be at home on a country porch, adorned with thin, but comfortable pillows with colors that remind you of summer night's on the stoop, enjoying treats from the Candy Lady after dinner but well before bedtime.

Your Cat sprawls next to you this time, tummy exposed and inviting scratches. It purrs at your touch, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. Your eyes gaze out the window again, and take in a much different landscape than before. You cannot tell if it's a wasteland or a fish bowl. Outcroppings of pure white stone are scattered throughout a neon landscape of what looks like sand in a bright, neon green, plants that bring to mind a gumball machine, the sky itself an ocean blue with vivid purple and pink clouds. There is no architecture in any direction, but spires of jagged white rocks, and sometimes, you swear you see geysers of bubbles here and there.

Your amazement is interrupted as a voice that doesn't feel at all out of place makes an announcement in that language you still don't understand rings out through the speaker system. Your Cat, who was dozing peacefully, sits up and dashes for the door to the next car. You follow still, as the train doors open onto an empty platform, but the two of you exit to the next car. As the door shuts behind you, you glance back.

A person had stepped into the car you had just vacated, and you recognize the expression on their face as the one you had when you first began this trip. There is a Cat next to them. You start to smile, to wave to them, but the car changes. No more benches with comfortable pillows that reminded you of childhood. Frost crept along the edges of the glass. The seats melted away until there was but a single wrought iron chair. You could hear the lightest jangle of chains and see through the now gloomy light dancing silver on the arms and legs of that chair. They sit, gazing around in wonderment, but not alarmed. Your own heartbeat quickens as the silver wraps itself around their arms and legs but still they do not notice. Their Cat perches itself on their shoulder, their fur a more fiery orange than Your Cat, almost red, easily distinguishable even in the poor lighting. Their Cat looks at you, and it's eyes don't match, one as black and endless as the night sky, the other as bright as the harvest moon. It bares its teeth to you.

You quickly look away. Your chest heaves as you feel uncontrollable panic set in. Do not follow a Cat with mix-match eyes, never follow a Cat with mix-match eyes. The warning screams through your ears, your head pounds and you drop to your knees. No one knows what happens to those people that do follow them, but there is one fact that never changes with any of the whispers.

Don't take the trains to the last stops.

That person had no way of escaping. Of freeing themselves. Your Cat knew. They must have known. They got you away from whatever happens to those that break that rule. Your Cat brushes against your legs again, mewling at you, butting your face with its head. Come, you cannot stay here.

You look to them, and your vision is blurry. Were you crying? You go to wipe your eyes and there is a hand, offering a handkerchief to you. Your look up, only to find the face of a young woman smiling kindly at you, a child hanging off her back cooing softly at the stranger and feline crouched on the ground. With shaky hands, you take the handkerchief, the soft, silky material crinkling in your grip as her surprisingly strong hand grips yours and pulls you to your feet. Blinking your vision clear, you see you are not alone this time. The car is different again, the scenery as well. The whole car reminds you of visiting a doting grandmother. Well worn carpet under your feet, chairs and couches that look as if they had seen many generations grow up under their roof alternated along the walls decorated with burgundy and gold wallpaper. The air itself smelled of baked goods with a hint of burnt coffee and mothballs, but those thoughts were pushed to the back of your mind as the people around you came more into focus.   
The mother pulled you to an empty couch seat and sat you down, pulling her toddler from her back onto her lap so she could sit as well. She didn't speak, only held your hand as you dabbed at your eyes. The child cooed again, reaching for Your Cat, but they darted under the seat. You gave them both a sheepish smile and nodded thanks. As you did, a brightly colored something caught the corner of your eye.

An orange cat.

And then another, twining around the legs of another stranger in the car. There was one sitting on the luggage rack above another person as well. When you looked down to find Yours, you noted one with pale yellow eyes curled at the mother's feet. She had one as well.

As you open your mouth to let out a confused cry, the mother squeezed your hand again, bringing a finger to your lips to silence you. No speaking, at least not here, she seemed to say. You closed your mouth and instead looked quizzically at her as an announcement was made again. The cat on the rack leapt off and gave a meow that sounded more like a gruff ‘harumph’ to a gentleman with neatly combed hair and a well dressed suit. He stood, straightening his tie before nodding to you, the mother, and anyone else with a Cat, before exiting the train at an empty station.

This must be where you all go home, you muse. The mother smiled again as one of the Catless, foreign-tongued strangers came and spoke to you with concern in their voice. Though you did not understand their words, you got their meaning as they pointed to the handkerchief and then mimicked dabbing at their eyes. Not knowing how to respond, you give a polite, if awkward, smile, nodding as if to reassure them that you are alright. They beam at you then, with teeth more akin to a carnivore and more white than you had ever seen, and reach into their pocket. Though you are alarmed at first, the positivity radiating from this stranger and the calmness of the woman next to you set you at ease as they pull three colorful pieces of candy out and offer them to you.

Hesitantly, remembering the incident with the Trolley, you take one, but only because Your Cat has not struck out at them. The mother does as well, and the stranger keeps the last one, unwrapping theirs and popping it into their mouth, nodding for you to do the same. As you and the mother follow suit, faces twisting at the sour-sweetness suddenly assaulting your taste buds, they laugh, the sound both chilling and musical. When you panic and look to the mother, you nearly burst into laughter, too. The candy seemed to have simply changed the colors of your teeth and tongue. The stranger sporting teeth that look to be made of obsidian and a tongue of pure sapphire. The mother with marble tongue and jade teeth. She holds a compact to your face so you can see yours. Teeth dyed royal purple and tongue a bright orange.

You all share a laugh until the stranger points at you and mimes a smile before walking away, their job done. You sit there with the mother, making faces at her child as they laugh and pull at your lips and cheeks. You are all having fun until Your Cat mewls for your attention once more, standing by the doors of the train as another announcement sounds. With a sad smile, you wave at the mother, her child, the others still in the car with their Cats, the strangers that belong to this strange world, and depart when the doors open.

Your Cat walks more slowly now, staying just in front of you as they lead you through the station, from platforms filled to the brim with people, to ones inhabited only by a person and their Cat. Up stairs, down stairs, the area changing from one of an unreal place you could never even dream of, back to something more resembling your own until finally they stop at a turnstile. They sit, staring at the metal as if it contains some great secret. They do not look to you as you stop beside them, do not move as you reach to pet them. This is it. This is the end of your adventure. You must go.

Silent, as you have been for much of this trip, you reach into your bag. You want to enjoy these last few moments, you think, grabbing the can of food and popping it open. You set it next to what was once Your Cat, but still they do not budge, not even when you move it closer to them. You frown, reaching to scratch behind their ears, but still they stand, frozen, eyes locked on the exit to this world. With a deep sigh, you give them one final pet before rising to your feet. Head held high, you push through the turnstile. You are ready to face what comes next on your own. But you can't help it. Once the metal clicks back into place, once the winter winds caress your face and you squint at the sudden sharp coldness, you look back, and see nothing but a busy city train station. Your station. The last one before the short walk to your home.

There are no more unreadable signs. No more announcements you will never understand over the P.A. system. No mother with her child, no stranger with oddly sharp teeth. No poor soul that did not follow the rules and is now Lost. The only hint as to what happened to you, the only proof that this wasn't a hallucination, or an elaborate day dream, is the empty cat food can right before the turnstile.

You met Your Cat. Together, the two of you had an adventure that showed you a new side of your commute. It gave a new polish to the strangers you share train cars with. It showed you that even without words or being able to understand others, you can connect and share feelings with them.

And with the first snowflakes of the season falling from the steely gray sky, you smile.

Your life doesn't feel as empty anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slightly older work (I believe I wrote this over a year ago or so?) based off a post about Street Cats and how different types lead you to different liminal spaces. It's my first posted work in years. I know many of you all know me for my Homestuck work, but I don't see myself writing any more for that fandom. If anything, if I find old works I haven't posted, I may put them up.


End file.
